


Before the Storm

by fluffymusketeer



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blow Jobs, Bottom Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Explicit Consent, First Time, M/M, Manga Spoilers, One Shot, Rimming, Slice of Life, Smut, Top Eren Yeager
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 03:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12100164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffymusketeer/pseuds/fluffymusketeer
Summary: Levi finds Eren alone on the beach the night before their gravest mission yet. Manga spoilers up to Ch. 97.





	Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! I’m new to Shingeki no Kyojin and Eren & Levi. This is my first fanfiction in many years, but I felt inspired by Chapter 97 and Gorgeous! Older! Eren! It’s a dash of headcanon, a pinch of speculate-y theorising (no doubt soon to be proven entirely wrong), and a hefty dollop of schmoopy angsty smut, all mixed into a one-shot. Hope you enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated! I haven’t done this in a while O.O
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful beta-reader, CommanderTrashPanda (AO3). If you’re into the tv show The 100 (and if you’re not I can recommend it), go check out their fanfiction!

  **Before the Storm**

 

They are back in the damn tents again, and Levi is staring at the billowing material above him as it warps and wefts with the salty ocean breeze. He thinks there might be a storm blowing in, which would be just fucking perfect, given that tomorrow is the big day.

He can’t sleep. He was never going to be able to sleep, really. Tomorrow they sail for Marley and find out if Armin’s hare-brained scheme is worth the paper it’s not written on.

It just might be brilliant. Or it might be a catastrophe.

Even now, Levi still wishes he could run all this by Erwin, for reassurance more than anything else. But then… perhaps Erwin would never have come up with such a risky plan in the first place. He was endlessly brave but he wasn’t _mad_. Hange on the other hand had cackled delightedly when Armin first outlined his idea, thrilled by the thought of subterfuge and sophistry, and Levi had been the one left to point out all the myriad ways it could go _horribly fucking wrong_.

“It’s a good plan,” Eren had said, the idiot, when he’d finished with his incensed countdown of all the things that could go _horribly fucking wrong_. “I can do it.”

And that had been that.

He is getting mighty tired of being overruled by his subordinates and their overenthusiastic commander. And yet, and yet…

It just might work.

Levi sighs and rubs at his tired eyes. So be it.

He needs a drink. It’s the middle of the night, and he really _needs_ a drink. It’s not like him to crave alcohol, so he shuffles out of his furs, grabs a blanket to wrap around himself, and decides to brave the wind to fetch a more familiar cup of tea instead. He roots around for his torch, shoves his feet into his combat boots, and zips open his tent.

They have set up camp not far from the beach and the ocean tonight is a dark mass beneath the night skies. A battalion of ships, stolen from the continent beyond the ocean, is anchored out in the natural harbour. The dark waters break against their hulls in waves of foamy grey. What stars there may be are hidden beneath a blanket of charcoal-coloured cloud, the faintest sliver of moonlight all that casts the endless horizon into relief.

Levi turns around and winds his way through the camp of fluttering canvas tents. Their canteen tent is larger, kept well stocked by the village at the sea wall, and he makes a beeline for it to get out of the chill of the wind, tugging his blanket close. The village itself is growing quickly now the island is finally clear of titans. It’s still technically a military outpost, a base for the bulk of the Survey Corps, but this latest influx of tradesman and their families makes Levi think it will outgrow that particular use soon. Hange had remarked a couple of days ago, as they had set up the camp in order to make room for the new arrivals, how nice it was to see children running around and playing, here outside the walls. Levi had shrugged, made some remark about green brats probably, but privately he had agreed. They’ve really achieved something here, these last four years.

The canteen tent is battened down against the wind. He fiddles with the zip, juggling torch and blanket, and heads inside.

Levi hadn’t expected to see anyone in here, but he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised when dull silvery lamplight spills out of the tent, illuminating Hange and Armin sitting across from each other at one of the tables, two tea cups and a pot between them. Armin’s fists are clutching at his crop of blond hair. Hange’s arm is stretched across the table, their hand atop the crown of his bowed head.

Levi pauses. He’s not entirely sure if he’s interrupted some private moment or not.

“Oi,” he says softly.

Hange lifts their head. “Oh, hey Levi.”

They don’t remove their hand though, and as his eyes get accustomed to the light, he can see now that Armin’s shoulders are shaking.

Ah.

There is a damp sniffle and Armin’s forehead droops even further to press against the table top. Hange strokes his hair like a concerned mother duck, but they are still peering at Levi. “Can’t sleep?”

Levi shrugs and heads to the wood burning stove, which is still smouldering with heat despite it being the middle of the night. Methodically he adds more wood, stokes the fire, and puts a pan of water on to boil. He rolls the stiff muscles in his shoulders and stares at the surface of the water.

He’s surprised there aren’t more nervous scouts wandering the camp, unable to sleep. But then, they _have_  been training pretty hard these last weeks in preparation. Maybe everyone is just exhausted. He knows he is.

“S-sorry Captain,” Armin says after a while, voice wet with tears.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies distractedly. He’s halfway through reaching for a cloth to wipe the top of the stove down. Maybe they’ve been doing _too_ much training, Levi thinks, because apparently no one had remembered cleaning duty that evening. Perhaps that is more an indicator of the scale of the task facing them, than the lack of sleepless soldiers. And it had all been cooked up in that little genius’ head. They are – all of them – putting their lives on the line for it. No wonder he is crying in the middle of the night.

Levi wipes carefully around the heated hob, then moves on to the work surfaces where they prepare the food. “Hey Hange,” he says.

“Hm?”

“Send down to the village to get this shithole sorted out in the morning before you leave, would you?” He’ll be sailing out before them, with the advance team in the first ship, otherwise he’d do it himself. He doesn’t mention that the camp isn’t permanent. That it’s entirely possible none of them will be coming back.

“Sure, Levi.”

The water in the pan finally starts to simmer and he reaches on his toes to fetch a large cup, tea mesh, and tin of leaves. The clattering of metal and china against wood sounds loud in the near-empty canteen tent.

“Hey Levi.”

“What?”

“In the morning…” Hange trails off.

He peers over his shoulder. Armin seems to be collecting himself somewhat, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief, and Hange’s palms are now wrapped around their cup of tea. Their eyes meet. Over a decade of working and fighting and grieving together hangs in the space between them. “I’ll come wake you up,” he says mildly. “Someone fucking has to, you shitty four-eyes.”

Hange smiles brightly.

Levi finishes brewing his tea – it’s done quickly because he’s cold and wants to get back inside his tent and into his furs – and nods at them both when he gets to the exit. “Night,” he says.

“Night,” they reply in unison. Neither of them look like they’ll be getting sleep any time soon, so he leaves them to it.

 

The camp is still silent, though the steadily increasing breeze makes it loud. The _flap flap flap_ of ill-fastened canvas follows him as he makes his way back to his own tent, the beach and the dark ocean beyond.

He stops in front of his tent, places his torch on the ground, and holds the blanket close around his nightclothes. Levi contemplates the ships out in the harbour while he sips his tea. Many of them – most of them – are weighed down by what he’s beginning to think of as their army. An army of giants. They sit side by side and back to back, eerily still and encased in a thin layer of not-quite-stone to keep out the sunlight. Hange will be in charge of ensuring their safe arrival on the shores of Marley, checking for cracks in the layer of crystallised hardness that will protect them – not to mention everybody else – while on the ships. Armin will be with her should they unexpectedly find themselves wrangling an out-of-control colossal titan in the middle of the ocean. They’ll be alright. He’s gotten almost as good at Eren at controlling his titan powers nowadays, though of course Eren is something else to behold entirely.

Levi had stationed his horse alongside Mikasa’s the day that Eren had broken the walls. She was second-in-command of the Special Operations Squad by then – still is – and they had watched as the first wall titan stepped from the edifice crumbling around it. Watched as it lumbered slow and steady over the landscape, its shadow cast long and dark. Watched as it was joined by another, then another, until an endless and sobering procession of giants had woven across the known world in awe-inspiring grandeur. So many had turned out that day to line the carefully planned route, soldiers and citizens alike. All of them had stood together and watched as the walls had finally fallen with a whimper rather than a bang.

Eren and Historia had sat upon the same horse on a grassy hill, alone and twined together. He remembers his gaze flicking over their forms, Eren in the back, Historia muffled by his arms in the front. Two solitary figures, the weight of unfathomable responsibility bowing their shoulders, holding onto each other. He remembers wondering if they had formed some sort of attachment beyond friendship, remembers considering their interlinked fingers.

He’d glanced once at Mikasa beside him, had seen her biting her lip and contemplating the same.

He didn’t _think_ so, but what did Levi know of such things? Not a lot.

His gaze had returned briefly to the procession of colossal titans. _Eren is doing this_ , he’d thought. _Eren fucking Jaeger._ Changing the world and the future, one titan at a time. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend what that might feel like. It was not so _very_ different from his own goals, and yet… as he stared at Eren locked in solitary unity with their queen, it was unlike anything he could ever imagine.

For the first time since Isabel and Farlan had died, in the shadow of titans, Levi had allowed himself to cry… just a little. He didn’t mind so much, in front of Mikasa; she was crying too.

They all were. You could taste the freedom on the air.

Levi takes another sip of his tea, gaze roaming over the ships. Not all of them are labouring under the weight of a dozen colossal titans, for this is merely one small part of Armin’s grand plan. Historia has been with them in the growing village since they brought the titans here, on hand should Eren require her, but she will have to wave them off at dawn and return to where she is needed most. After that, it will all be down to Eren and Armin. Mostly Eren, really, because once they cross the ocean they will need to find themselves another Historia, while Armin babysits the colossal titans offshore.

This is the subterfuge part that excites Hange the most. They know who they are going after, hope they have deduced the correct bait… and Levi has conceded his vengeance will have to wait.

 _Erwin I wish you could see this_ , he thinks. _You’d forgive me for delaying my promise, if you could._

A break in the fast-moving clouds lets moonlight filter down over the natural harbour, and Levi’s wandering gaze snags on something he hadn’t noticed before. He frowns.

There’s a solitary figure far down on the beach, back hunched over, sitting on the sand with his arms wrapped around his legs. His long brown hair is getting tossed wildly by the wind and his green cloak flutters sideways to reveal a leather jacket with corps insignia beneath. He’s in full uniform and he’s sitting down there staring out to sea. Just watching, just waiting.

 _Figures_ , Levi thinks.

He drains his cup, the warmth of the liquid soothing him from the inside for the time being. Puts the cup out of the way to be cleaned in the morning. Glances at his tent longingly.

Then he curses and goes to join Eren on the beach.

 

There is no sign that Eren has even heard him when he pitches up and flops awkwardly down beside him on the sand. He reaches down to remove his combat boots, stretches out his left leg and rolls his ankle. His right leg he bends and props an elbow atop it, rests his chin on his palm.

He purses his lips at the silence.

“There’s a storm coming in,” Levi remarks, eventually.

“Mm,” is the soft reply.

“Is that going to be a problem with—?” He nods his head towards the ships and their precious cargo.

“No,” Eren says simply.

Well, that’s something, at least. Eren is talking. He doesn’t always. But Levi is already beginning to wonder why he bothered to come down here. He’s never had to worry about being the talkative one before. Just says what he thinks, moves on. But these last years with Eren… things have become increasingly difficult.

Time was, Eren would be the one to seek him out. _Is this brass polished enough, Captain? I think it needs another coat, don’t you?_ he’d ask gormlessly. _Yes_ , Levi would say, and go back to his paperwork. He’d become so _used_ to Eren seeking him out. Levi doesn’t want to think too much on it, but it’s more the other way around these days. Levi seeking, Eren always just out of reach. He’s beginning to feel a bit like an aged and ailing mutt trailing perplexedly after its master, unable to understand where they’re going but limping gamely along anyway, and when the fuck did _that_ happen?

Levi doesn’t exactly know. And it’s… frustrating.

He’s not the only one feeling it. It’s impossible not to notice the growing distance between Eren and Mikasa, between Eren and Armin, between Eren and, well, everyone.

Eren’s features are lit by a distant bolt of lightning, far out into the open ocean. Sharp cheekbones, flashing green eyes, lips turned downwards. His hair is down to his shoulders now - ridiculous – and it flies about in the weather like it has a mind of its own. It suits him. Wild and untamed. The answering rumble of thunder makes Levi’s fingers twitch for his boots. He wants to go back to bed. Fuck being rained on _by choice_.

But Eren’s weary sigh has him staying put. “If it gets too bad,” Eren says carefully, “You should go get Historia, sir. I can use _them_ —” he lifts a finger and points to the immobilised titans “—to anchor the ships.”

Levi turns his attention back to the harbour. “Smart plan.”

“Hope you don’t mind getting wet.”

Levi shrugs. Hunkers down into his blanket with a shiver. His nightclothes are distressingly thin in this weather. Out of the corner of his eye, he regards Eren’s jacket and cloak with envy.

After what feels like an age, Eren sighs again and stretches his legs out. Leans back on his palms in the sand, whole body unbending. Levi watches the process. Finally Eren turns his head to peer at him. “Couldn’t sleep, Captain?” he asks.

“Fuck no.” He pauses to think. Weighs his options carefully, then makes a decision. He’s never been good with words but he can recognise an invitation to share, at least. “How are you feeling, Eren?”

Eren leans further back on his elbows, practically lounging on the sand now. He’s developed a slovenly sort of elegance as he’s grown older. Almost feline, only it’s all long legs and unkempt hair. “I’m alright,” he says. He plucks idly at the sand, scattering grains into the wind. “Tired, I guess.”

“Hmm.”

“I just want to get it done now.”

“Yeah,” Levi replies. “The waiting is always the worst.”

“It _is_. I hate waiting.”

Levi feels a smile tugging at his lips.

Eren returns his eyes to the ocean, so Levi does the same. Silence descends again, only it’s a little more comfortable this time. It’s a shared silence, something he is long used to sharing with the young man at his side. Years of clearing Wall Maria, of clearing the island, of training missions, of anchoring into Eren’s shoulders and learning to utilise their respective skillsets in tandem, of recovering from their exhaustion afterwards, has seen to that. He knows that when the day of the final battle comes he will launch from Eren’s shoulders and _fly_.

Well… if they are both still around for it.

Levi has never quite been able to accept that Eren’s time left in this world is numbered in days and months rather than years and decades. There’s still too much they don’t know, out there beyond the endless waters. Levi just tends to think of it as yet another battle to be fought, before all this is done.

Eren shifts in the sand beside him. Suddenly, he mutters, “Will you do it?”

Levi follows Eren’s gaze down to his left leg. He’d expected him to ask some time ago, but when the request never came, had assumed he’d recruited Mikasa for the unpleasant task of disabling him instead.

“I’m sorry to ask but—”

“It’s alright Eren,” he interrupts. “I can do it if that’s what you want.”

“Yes,” Eren says. “Yes. It’s best if it’s you.”

“Fine. Tomorrow though. When I’m not in my pyjamas.” Eren should get some rest tonight, while his body is still whole.

“Okay.” Eren seems to heave a great sigh, probably of relief. Levi understands. Mikasa would struggle with such a gruesome amputation when it comes to him. “Thanks, Captain,” he murmurs.

“No problem.”

More silence. Levi watches Eren while Eren watches the ocean. Tries to pinpoint the moment Eren started drifting from them, but can’t. It had been a slow process, was happening before any of them realised it.

There is no sign, yet, that he is dying. He’s grown tall and strong. His lean muscles work well with the manoeuvre gear these days. His body handles his transformations better. Still the occasional bouts of nosebleeds and vomiting, but nothing compared to when he was fifteen. His features have sharpened into true beauty. But the distance… it’s in his eyes. Levi has lost count of the amount of times Eren has looked straight through him as if he’s not even there. As if Eren is miles away, beyond the sea, focused on nothing but what’s to come. Those green eyes see things the rest of them cannot, the ghosts of the future while the rest of them simply carry the ghosts of the past.

Levi wants to say _it’ll be alright, Eren._ He wants to tell him _you won’t be alone._

But he is already alone, and none of this is alright, and it’s pointless spewing reassurance because he knows Eren will throw it right back at him. Levi cannot bring himself to be dishonest with Eren.

The wind picks up, howls across the harbour and the beach. Whorls of scattering sand chase each other into the night. The salt spray of a breaking wave splashes over the thin cotton covering his legs. He grimaces and forces himself to get up.

He brushes the sand off his ass, tugs on his boots, and re-situates the blanket around his shoulders. Peers down. “You staying?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think so.” Eren’s eyes never leave the ocean, Levi’s presence seemingly forgotten already, cast aside like every other one of Eren’s human connections.

“Alright. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

Levi wills his legs to move but he’s… reluctant. His young charge cuts a miserable figure all by himself in the sand. _I’m losing him_ , Levi thinks. He’s vanishing before their eyes, fading into nothing but grim, all-consuming purpose. He remembers the fifteen year old mess of hormonal rage and nervous smiles and earnest desire to please that he had inherited long ago.

Levi doesn’t want to lose Eren.

“Actually, no,” he hears himself say. “Get up.”

Eren’s eyebrows scrunch together, attention momentarily caught, and he peers up at him. “Huh?”

“You heard me. Get up, you little brat. That’s an order.”

There’s a long pause. Eren’s deep frown is obscured by the long strands flicking into his eyes, but Levi can see it anyway. He wants to cross his arms for added effect, but his blanket will fall off if he does. _What am I doing?_ He thinks.

“O— kay,” Eren says slowly. He bends his long legs and picks himself up off the sand. He’s at least a head taller than Levi these days. At least. “What now, sir?” Eren actually manages to sound mildly pissed.

 _Good,_ Levi thinks. _Good_.

“Right,” he says. “Come with me. And be quick about it, I’m fucking freezing.”

Before he can continue to second guess himself, Levi stomps back up the beach, boots slipping in the sand. He refuses to glance back to check if Eren is following him. Now is not the time to show uncertainty.

Debris is getting kicked up by the approaching storm, and it frustrates his sense of order as he marches back to camp. Dry leaves are tossed in the breeze in front of him, twirling around each other in some manoeuvre directed by air currents and temperature and other things Levi doesn’t really understand. They weave in, out, then meet in temporary flairs of coordination before going their separate ways, scattered off into the distance by the wind.

When he reaches his tent, empty teacup still nestled under a guy rope, Levi finally allows himself to check if Eren has followed him. A little thrill runs through him when he sees that he has. Reluctantly, obviously, because it takes him half a minute to catch up. But it’s _something_ at least.

Eren reaches the tent. His hands are in his pockets. It looks like mutinous thoughts are running through his idiot brain, but he simply repeats, “What now, sir?”

Levi bends down and unzips the tent. “Right. Get in.”

Eren blinks. He peers around at the camp, green-eyed gaze taking in the sea of billowing tents. Returns back to Levi’s tent and blinks again. The expression his face twists into when he finally deduces whose tent he is being ordered to enter is almost amusing. “What?”

“I said get _in_ , Eren. Are you going to make me repeat myself all night?”

“I—” he cuts himself off. Shoves his hands further into his pockets. Glances at Levi angrily. “No. Not until—”

Levi feels his whole body bristle with temporary fury, stoked by Eren’s anger. “Scout, get in the damn tent,” he orders. “It’s not a request.”

“Ugh! Fine. _Fine_. Whatever, yes sir.” He hunches down grumpily and shuffles inside.

Levi allows himself a moment to take a deep fortifying breath of sea air, then follows him in.

 

Once he’s zipped the tent up behind them, mercifully shutting out the biting wind, Levi notices that Eren is removing his survey corps cloak with jerky, annoyed movements. He doesn’t bother folding it, just drops it unceremoniously to the side with revolutionary carelessness, then sits down. He rakes a hand through his messy hair.

Eren is peering at him as if he’s gone unexpectedly senile the night before their gravest mission. Maybe he has, a bit. Levi’s really not sure what the fuck he’s doing right now, after all. He just knows that if he had left Eren all by himself on that beach for a single _second_ longer, he might have ended up screaming. They sit awkwardly on the furs, Levi snuggled into his oversized blanket and nightclothes which is a bit ridiculous come to think of it, and Eren in his full military uniform, harness and all, hair tousled and windswept. He smells of salt air and sea breeze.

Never one to mince words, Eren finally says, “Why did you just force me into your tent, sir?”

Levi winces inwardly. Outwardly, he just scowls. “Because, Eren, it appears you’re not sleeping tonight, and I’m certainly not fucking sleeping tonight, so I decided we might as well not fucking sleep together. Alright?”

Maybe something clicks inside Eren’s mind then – he’s not entirely sure what – but the anger seems to drain out of him, drip by drip. His back slouches and he picks distractedly at the furs. Levi watches warily, but Eren won’t meet his eyes. “I… guess?”

“Finally he gets it,” Levi mutters. “Just take your damn gear off and _try_ to get some sleep. You need it.”

Eren doesn’t answer for a while, but when he does his voice has risen an octave. Ah, apparently they are not done with the teenaged anger just _yet_. “If you don’t mind, sir, this is ridiculous. I’m leaving.” He reaches for his crumpled cloak.

“No,” Levi says, his own voice rising.

Eren huffs and throws his hands in the air. “What the hell, Levi?!”

“Fine, I’ll do it then,” Levi snaps, and then he’s on his knees and reaching for the straps of Eren’s harness.

He fumbles under the jacket to get at Eren’s shoulders, blanket slipping off his own, grouching in his head. Stupid _stubborn_ little brat. He never makes things easy, does he? It’s always the hard way. Why stroll up a hill when there’s a fucking mountain to be scaled nearby? Damn idiot.

It takes him far longer than it _should_ , in hindsight, to notice that Eren has gone very, very still.

Levi’s fingers slow incrementally as he registers the cadence of Eren’s breathing, the heat of warm muscles beneath his hands, the fraught silence forming rapidly between them, laden with frustration and loneliness and shared history. The world and Levi’s knowledge of it tilts unexpectedly yet irretrievably out of balance. He hears his breathing quicken slightly, feels Eren’s respond in kind beneath his palms.

 _What is this?_ Levi thinks in disarray. _What is happening?_

Eren has grown into a gorgeous young man. Levi has always known – theoretically – that Eren is a good looking boy. Coffee brown locks, soft when ruffled, green eyes that sparkle with righteous fire when he’s angry, tanned skin that is as clean and perfect as if he’s never seen a day’s hard graft in his life. His smile, when it emerges – much rarer these days than it used to be – is pure sunshine. Levi knows all this, in theory, but as half a decade of watching Eren and working with Eren and _learning_ Eren crash into him all at once and he finds his hands growing unsteady, Levi realises that the one thing he did not know was that his _own_ feelings towards Eren have changed. Drastically, apparently, if the subtle tightening in his pants is anything to go by. _When the fuck did this happen?_ he thinks, alarmed.

And maybe Eren’s having some sort of revelation of his own because when Levi risks looking up at him, those pretty green eyes are wide and staring right back. He gets lost in that gaze.

“Why did you bring me in here, sir?” Eren asks, softly.

Levi swallows. “I don’t know.”

Okay. Maybe… maybe it’s time to put some distance between them. His fingertips flutter uncertainly over the straps of the harness. He really _should_ put some distance between them. Right now. _Why isn’t he moving away?_ He feels like he’s falling off a cliff.

Levi is not particularly experienced. Not by design, per se. Just… when you’d lived the life he had, and were as fussy as he was, opportunities for romantic liaisons were not exactly jumping out of the cleaning closets at him. He had long ago accepted that he was not the type for quick stress-relief tumbles in the bedsheets. Not only because it was vaguely _disgusting_ , the thought of ruining his clean sheets, but also he just doesn’t… _want_ people he does not know well. Has to be close to them. There have been certain relationships, over the years, where he’d thought about it, of course, thought about breaching that divide between friendship and… something else. But it was always a fleeting thing, a stray musing between fighting titans and cursing at paperwork. None of the people he’d thought about had ever breached that divide for him, in the end, and thus all of his – rather modest – experience with such matters had been accrued in the underground. That was _years_ ago, and he feels very, very rusty.

Is that what this is? Stress-relief? Has he finally figured out how to switch off the part of his brain that screams _don’t trust!_ and somehow latched onto Eren to while away the sleepless hours?

He doesn’t think so. In fact he’s certain it’s not. He wouldn’t be trembling if it were.

“You can carry on, sir,” Eren whispers, fatally. “If you want.”

 _Falling, he’s falling._ Levi sucks in a sharp breath. “Eren—”

“Please? I… I want you to—”

And then his fingers are in Eren’s hair and he’s dragging him down.

The kiss is heated, _frantic_. “Uggghh,” Eren moans, his hands flying to Levi’s biceps. His grip is tight and desperate.

Levi feels like his insides have caught fire. He shuffles on his knees, fingers raking through Eren’s hair, lips fumbling and uncertain. But Eren… Eren is moving with _confidence_ , his tongue licking velvety soft across Levi’s lips, his warm hands pulling their bodies together. Levi feels himself physically _manhandled_ until he’s forced to part his legs, splaying them across Eren’s lap.

He gasps against Eren’s mouth. Somehow he knew Eren would be like this. It’s heady... but also reassuring. _When did I think about it?_ he wonders, thoughts skittering through his mind one after another. He runs out of air, but he doesn’t want to stop. Isn’t sure he _can_ stop. His brain screams _Eren, Eren, Eren_.

It’s Eren that finally pulls away, putting scant inches between them. He presses his forehead to Levi’s and they gulp deep breaths. The look in his eyes is so complex that Levi cannot even begin to decipher it, but he cannot look away. He always did get lost in those eyes, even when they didn’t see him.

“Eren,” he says. Runs out of words, so tries to let his fingers speak for him as he strokes and scratches at silky locks and smooth scalp.

“Yeah,” Eren replies. And then he sets back in, encouraging Levi to follow his lead as their tongues begin to search and explore and caress, and Levi wraps his arms tight around Eren’s neck and surrenders _._ As heated palms slip down from his shoulders to his lower back, pulling him in close to deepen the hug, he can’t quite recall – at thirty-eight years old – ever feeling this alive.

After a while he hears, “Can I…?”

It takes him a dazed second to realise they have stopped kissing and are simply holding onto each other tightly, anchoring themselves in this sudden and unexpected maelstrom. Eren’s quiet request brings him round, and he feels fingers playing gently with the hem of his nightshirt, fluttering across his lower spine. Levi shivers, no longer cold _at all_ , and closes his eyes. “Alright.”

He feels a bit nervous. Understandable, really, and nothing he can’t handle but he takes a moment to shake out his diffused and scattered thoughts. As their breathing slows and the approaching bad weather outside becomes more noticeable again, he begins to question his own intentions as Eren divests him of his shirt. Has he… ordered Eren into this, by accident?

When Eren flings his shirt to one side and his fingers – alarmingly – make their way to Levi’s waistband, he clamps his own hands over them. “Eren, wait.”

Eren looks up at him, then glances over at the shirt. “Do you want me to fold it?”

“What?” Levi shakes his head. _Idiot._ “No. I just want to make sure you’re… okay. With this.”

Eren arches one eyebrow into an expression of officiousness that even Levi would be proud of. “Are _you_ okay with this?” he asks.

“Eren, I _ordered_ _you into my tent_.”

He chews his lower lip. It’s distractingly red and damp. After a moment he says, “And? It’s not exactly the weirdest thing you’ve ever done, Captain.”

“Fuck, don’t call me that!”

Now both of Eren’s eyebrows are rising to disappear beneath his hairline. Great, he’s back to thinking Levi has gone senile or something.

Levi brushes his hair out of his eyes in frustration. “Eren,” he says. “I just don’t want you to think you _have_ to.”

“Oh.” He cocks his head to one side in an unnerving impression of a puppy, peering at Levi from under his long fringe. He’s not smiling, exactly, but Levi feels the full weight of those eyes fixed on him. _I miss him looking at me_ , Levi thinks, losing his train of thought. “You don’t have to worry about me wanting it,” Eren says. “Trust me.”

And then he takes hold of Levi’s waist and positively _grinds_ him down on his lap. “ _Shit_ ,” Levi gasps out, as a very _there_ erection presses against his balls through the thin cotton of his pants. “Shit.”

“Anyway,” Eren continues, grinding their hips together a second time, deeper and harder. “This is much better than your stupid sleep idea.”

“Alright, alright,” Levi mutters. “Just—” he peers at the flimsy canvas surrounding them “—just try to be quiet, you little brat.”

“Yes _sir_.”

He feels himself bodily picked up and, for all intents and purposes, _flung_ back onto the furs. “Shit!” Then Eren is crawling over him, fingers plucking again at his waistband, and Levi is staring at the stitching in the top of his tent in a daze. Is he about to be ravished? He thinks he might be about to be ravished. He flings his forearm over his heating face in mild but delicious distress as Eren lifts his hips up and slides his pants down over his ass, his thighs, his calves. Damn teenaged titan shifters.

Levi is hard as fuck.

He watches from beneath his arm as Eren puts some temporary distance between them to remove his own jacket, then his harness, then – after a brief pause – his shirt with methodical, military precision. They join the haphazard and growing pile of clothes in the corner. He leaves his trousers and his boots on, which does weird things to Levi’s heart rate. He allows himself a moment to admire the way lean muscles flex beneath unmarred skin, soft and tan and perfect, such a contrast to his own.

Eren crawls back over him and stares – pretty fucking brazenly – at Levi’s erection. “Mmm,” Eren says.

“Shut up,” Levi replies, cheeks heating even further. When did the brat get so _sexy?_

“Is that an order, sir?”

“Eren _don’t_ say shit like—”

Then a hot wet tongue licks up the underside of his cock, and Levi’s words disappear as he throws his head back and groans. _So much for my fucking morals._

Eren’s tongue on his cock is practically sinful. It’s gentle and sure and _questing_ , as if he’s delicately but determinedly exploring new territory, and it’s… well, it’s _Eren_. He licks up one side, then the other, always pausing to lap wetly at the most sensitive parts of Levi’s glans, paying extra attention when Levi squirms or shifts or gasps. He feels his legs fall apart at the knees, his toes inching over Eren’s ribcage, his hips trying their damnedest not to pump. “Ah—!” He bites down on his own ragged moan as Eren finds a particularly pleasurable spot. Tries to regulate his unsteady breathing.

It’s the best kind of torture. Slow, teasing, careful. _Well, he certainly didn’t learn_ this _with Historia_ , Levi muses. _Who the hell has he been practising on?_ Levi screws his eyes shut even tighter. Fuck it, he doesn’t want to know. It’s too good to start questioning.

In fact the teasing is getting a little _too_ good. Levi is about to snap _don’t just play with it, damn it_ when Eren shifts gear and moves down to his balls.

“Fuuuuck,” he says, unable to prevent his thighs from squeezing around Eren’s shoulders. He’d taken a shower before getting into bed that night, he’s clean, but he feels self-conscious anyway. It’s a level of intimacy he’s not used to. Not for many years, anyway. He feels like his cock is being _worshipped_ , for fuck’s sake.

But Eren is bathing his balls with warm, wet licks, and Levi’s self-control is apparently missing in action. His tongue is so _hot_. He subtly tries to nudge Eren in closer with his feet. “Eren,” he murmurs. “More.”

The pressure gets firmer, more insistent, and his legs fall back open. He’s definitely rolling his hips now, lifting them as Eren’s tongue licks between his balls, lower and lower. “Fuck yes,” he says. Screw being jealous over whoever had gotten to Eren first. Levi is beginning to think he should be _thanking_ him.

Levi feels sweat prickling on his chest. His pale skin is probably flushed as all hell and he _knows_ he is blushing like mad. His whole body is on fire. This is the best blow job he’s ever had, and his dick hasn’t even been _in_ Eren’s mouth yet.

And then that hot tongue touches Levi’s hole, and he _collapses._

“Ah— _ah!_ ” Shit shit shit. That had _not_ been quiet. “Stop. Eren. _Stop._ ”

The velvety softness pauses. He feels silky hair brush his inner thighs as Eren lifts his head. “Did I do something wrong?”

“I can’t,” Levi pants.

“But I thought…” Eren trails off. He sounds suddenly uncertain.

Levi tries to slow his frantic breathing, to stop seeing stars. He realises he’s shaking. “You didn’t do anything _wrong_. There’s just no chance we won’t wake everybody up if you carry on with _that_ ,” he admits.

“Oh.”

“Yes. _Oh_.”

There is loaded pause and all he can hear is his own heavy breathing fill the tent. He’s rattled now, he knows he is. This was meant to be about comfort, and damn it Eren _deserves_ that and here Levi is on the edge of falling apart… he doesn’t do this. It wasn’t meant to be about him.

“So…. you kinda liked it then?”

Levi’s eyes snap open. Green ones stare back at him. There is a _lot_ more mischief in them than he expected. Eren is positively glowing with it, a hint of a smirk tugging at his damp lips.

“Don’t you dare—” Eren’s head drops and he _laves_ Levi’s hole with a hot, wet lick. “ _SHIT!_ _”_

And then his palms are pushing Levi’s thighs apart and he’s lapping at him like a damn dog and Levi throws back his head and _keens_.

Fuck he’s gonna wake _everybody_ —

“Ah, Eren— _yes!_ ” He can’t stop the words from tumbling inarticulately from his mouth.

Eren swirls his tongue, and it’s so _wet_ and _good_ and Levi’s fingers fly to Eren’s hair, twining in the strands to force him closer. He pumps his hips once, twice. Grinds down on Eren’s tongue. His ass is so tender and his nerves are lit with _fire_.

“Hnnnng,” Eren hums pleasantly against him.

Levi moans. It’s _loud_ and he’s beginning to Not. Care. They’re gonna hear him getting his ass rimmed by Eren fucking Jaeger and—

“Don’t stop,” he hears himself saying. He sounds _wanton._ “Eren _don’t stop_. Shit, shit you’re so good.”

Eren hums again.

Levi _gives the hell up_.

“Ah!” he cries. “Ah, please. Harder!”

Eren complies and Levi’s cock is twitching and dripping against his stomach and… _shit_ he’s gonna come from this. He thinks he makes some vague attempt to push at the head between his thighs, anything to stop the heat building.

Then Eren reaches up, wraps one hand around his damp cock, and licks _into_ his hole.

Levi comes so hard his vision goes white. _“EREN!”_ Hot ropes of semen lash his chest. He feels it splash against his _cheek_. It goes on forever, waves and waves of one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had in his _life_ , and his voice is a hoarse and shouting mess. There’s no way no one hears it. It’s so fucking good tears spring unbidden to his eyes. Fuck, Eren. _Fuck!_

 

His whole body is quivering when he finally floats back down to earth.

The tent goes quiet. Well, comparatively. His breathing is pretty wrecked and Eren’s isn’t much better as he lifts his head and gulps air. Levi hadn’t even realised he’d thrown his forearm back over his eyes at some point. He feels utterly dazed. After some time, he lowers his arm shakily and squints down at Eren, who is licking his lips. They’re pretty… swollen.

Levi groans and flops back, spine unbending, his whole body going limp. “Shit,” he mutters.

There’s a pause. Then Eren simply says, “Wow.” He sounds completely bewildered. It’s almost amusing. “Um… _wow_.”

“Alright, alright.” Levi attempts to keep a straight face. He’s not entirely sure he’s successful. “Shut the hell up.” He wafts a hand around vaguely and closes his eyes again. He can feel himself blushing. What a mess.

“That was—”

“I said shut up.” Levi exhales heavily. “Just… give me a minute.”

“Yes, _sir_.”

Brat.

But Levi’s smiling now, lazily, and he probably looks pretty damn dopey. He finds he doesn’t really care. The ocean winds rustle the sides of the tent and he can’t hear anything else beyond that. Maybe they got lucky and it smothered his shouts. Maybe. He can’t recall ever coming from his ass being licked out before but he mentally visualises Eren’s gorgeous tousled locks between his legs and damn it… his cock gives a feeble twitch. Ugh. What has this kid just _done_ to him? He starts to feel a bit too broken and wide open and vulnerable. With a sigh, he nudges Eren out of the way with his foot and eases his legs back together. His ankle twinges and his calves ache. No wonder Eren’s lips and face are a bit of a sight. Levi must have been putting a fair bit of his strength into grinding down on his face.

He frowns at himself.

Levi cracks his eyes open as Eren scoots up to lie down beside him on the furs, still wiping spit from his mouth with delicate fingers. He looks kind of stupidly awestruck. He slings an arm casually over Levi’s stomach and a cloth-covered hardness nudges against Levi’s thigh. Right, he should probably return the favour—

“You look amazing when you come,” Eren says.

Levi raises an eyebrow. “Do I now.”

“Yep. You, uh, sound pretty amazing too.”

“Tch.”

Eren lifts his arm and gently wipes Levi’s mussed, sweaty hair from his eyes. Is he in for some petting now? Apparently so. Of _course_ Eren is a snuggler. Wandering fingertips trail over his cheeks, his lips, down the side of his neck. “Can I kiss you? Is that alright after… um…”

Levi sighs. “Sure. C’mere”

So Eren leans over, soft brown hair framing their faces, and his lips slide against Levi’s. It’s lazy and careless and wonderful. His hand slips into Eren’s hair to tug him closer and press their chests together. He’s covered in his own come, it’s filthy, and he doesn’t think he cares. Well… not much. Eren tosses his leg over Levi’s and pumps gently against him. “Mmm,” he mumbles against Levi’s lips. “Can I fuck you?”

Levi pulls back. Looks at him.

“Uh, please?”

“You _do_ realise we probably woke up half the corps with your little performance just now?” Eren is still shifting his hips against him, up and down, up and down. The fabric tickles against his sensitive skin. “There’s no way they won’t figure out it’s us if—”

“ _My_ little performance?” Eren grins. Fuck, Levi loves that smile.

And he can’t even recall the last time he saw it. _I put that there_ , he thinks. _I caused that smile._

While it’s clear Eren is frisky as hell, Levi is starting to feel self-conscious about being covered in his own semen. He ducks his head and rolls over to root for a handkerchief in his own military-issue jacket, which is hung neatly from a coat hanger near the entrance. In the end he grabs two, one for Eren as well, and they wipe themselves off in silence. When they are done, Eren takes both of the soiled garments and flings them to the back of the tent. Levi’s eye twitches. He knows Eren is doing it deliberately, testing his boundaries. He’s not entirely sure _why_. Not sure he cares, really. He’s always been a bit weird.

When Eren begins to unbutton his trousers, Levi reaches for a pillow and lays back on the furs. Shivers a little with the cold. “Eren, come here,” he says, opening one arm in invitation.

Eren looks over at him, halfway through shrugging out of the rest of his clothes. He cocks his head to one side in that adorable way of his again, finishes undressing, and joins him. They cuddle up. After a moment, Levi fishes his blanket out from beneath their feet and pulls it over them. Eren is watching all of this with curious, interested eyes. “Cold?” he asks.

“Whatever gave me away.”

Eren curls closer, sharing his titan-fuelled body heat. Levi thinks – given the state of the weather – that he probably has the best tent in the camp right now, except for whomever Armin is shacking up with. He runs even hotter than Eren.

He hears Eren huff a sigh, and then lips nuzzle at his neck. Levi strokes his hair absent-mindedly. He’ll just have to show this old man some patience. _Hm, maybe Armin?_ Levi wonders, considering each of Eren’s friendships in turn. Thinks back to the day the walls were broken, two solitary figures on a horse.

“Hey Eren. Were you and Historia ever…?”

“Ever what?”

Levi rolls his eyes and gestures between the two of them. “You know.” _Naked. Together._

“Me and _Historia?!_ ” Eren blinks at him. “Huh?”

“I’ll take that as a no then.” He purses his lips. Thinks back to Armin, crying on Hange earlier. And Eren, sitting alone on the beach. Of the growing distance between the two of them this last year or so. Perhaps, perhaps…

“Were you and Commander Erwin together?” Eren asks suddenly, startling him.

Well, he supposes he walked right into that one.

He chooses his next words carefully. This is an old wound, one that has taken him years to stitch up, and he does not particularly want it scratched at. “Why do you think that, Eren?”

“I don’t know.” Eren rolls onto his back and frowns at the canvas above. “You just seemed so close. You knocked my teeth out.”

He winces. He had treated Eren badly over Erwin, not just that fucking awful day in Shiganshina, but afterwards too… for a while. Apparently Eren has drawn his own conclusions as to the reasons why, and Levi cannot really blame him. Frankly there is no grand excuse for his behaviour, except for his own shredded temper and the very painful loss of the man who had turned his whole _life_ around. Ah, Erwin. _I miss you, old friend._ The war had always gotten in the way, of course, and he’d _never_ plucked up the courage to approach Erwin on such matters, but in the quiet times, in the lonely nights and the bedside vigils, Levi had… hoped. If they had both lived through all this. But one of them hadn’t, so it’s all a bit moot now anyway. They’d never had their four years of relative peace to get all sappy and ruminate over feelings, or whatever the fuck it is that has happened between himself and Eren.

Only vengeance remains, tucked away and protected in the back of Levi’s mind, waiting to be unleashed when the time comes.

It feels a while ago now, and he’s genuinely quite surprised that this is how Eren has chosen to compartmentalise that day and its aftermath. It’s very… neat. Levi’s feelings for Erwin had been too complex to put into a single box, and somehow he’d just blithely assumed Eren _knew_ that.

“Shit,” Levi says. “I almost wish I could say yes now.”

Eren turns to look at him, surprised. “You _weren’t?_ ”

Levi shakes his head.

“Oh.” Eren’s gaze returns to the roof of the tent. He’s getting melancholy again, frowning. Damn it, Levi thinks, maybe he’s had enough of a rest, can coax his body back into readiness— then Eren slaps his own forehead. Hard. “Nooo! I just lost a bet to Jean.”

Levi is completely nonplussed. “What?”

“Uh.” Eren glances at him out the corner of his eye. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Well now you have to tell me.” At Eren’s silence, he adds, “ _Don’t_ make me pull rank.”

“Ugh, _fine._ Well, we all got drunk this one time—” Levi rolls his eyes “—And we got talking about Armin’s training, and Shiganshina came up, and then me and Jean, uh, we sorta got into a big argument, well it was more of a fight really, about whether you hit me because you were about to lose the love of your life or if it was just because I was being an insufferable ass.”

Levi feels himself smile. The thought of Eren drunkenly defending his honour is almost… cute. He tries to force his features into something resembling dignity. “I hope you didn’t bet too much.”

“I can’t really remember. I guess maybe I just won’t remind him?”

“Good idea.”

Eren snuggles back up to him, and his fingertips begin to wander beneath the blanket, tracing over the relaxed muscles of his abdomen, caressing his scars with idle confidence. Levi can’t work it out. It couldn’t be Mikasa, there’s no way he’d have missed the expression on her face the day after, and following Eren’s befuddled reaction to the notion of himself and Historia, Levi is beginning to think none of the girls had ever been in the running in the first place. He discards Connie – too devoted to Sasha – and Jean – ha! – in quick succession, and his questing mind keeps circling back to Armin. But he _knows_ Eren and Armin, is thoroughly familiar with the way they speak to each other, with the dynamics of their friendship; even now, when they are more distant. Most of the time they sound like a couple of schoolboys, and when they don’t, they sound like friends. _Just_ friends. If they have ever been more, they’ve kept it _extraordinarily_ well hidden. And given how generally _not focused_ Eren is on anything but winning the war, Levi can’t imagine him sharing such things with random strangers or acquaintances. He thinks they are probably similar, in that respect.

Levi watches the ripples in the side of his tent, considers the memory of Eren’s tongue on his dick. Slow, languid, almost careful. His mind drifts over Eren’s reaction to being told to stop. _“But I thought…”_ Wait.

Wait wait wait.

He feels his internal musings shift sideways, observing things from a new and… frankly _horrifying_ angle. Had Eren been _unsure?_ No, no, no.

“Eren,” he says slowly. “Have you ever _been_ with anyone before?”

The bright flush that instantly overtakes Eren’s face tells him all he needs to know.

Levi groans and covers his face with his hand. “Fuck are kidding me?” he says in horror. “After what we just did?”

Eren takes a while to answer. When he does, it’s defensive. “It’s not like I’ve never thought about it.” He huffs. “Being with you, I mean. For, um, ages.”

“You have? Wait, don’t answer that.” Levi removes his hand. Right, time to be the adult he’s _meant_ to be. “Eren, I’m sorry.”

“What? _Why?_ ” Eren turns wild eyes in his direction.

“Don’t panic, you idiot. I’m not sorry that it _happened_.” Levi can feel himself blushing again. Damn his pale skin. “But… we could have taken things a _bit_ slower.” Like saved the mind-blowing rim job for another date, perhaps.

“What if I don’t want to take things slower?”

“Eren…”

“Levi, look.” Eren props himself up on an elbow. His face is still furiously red – they both are, really – but Levi can tell his determination is kicking in. “I know you brought me in here to distract me,” he says. “I’m not actually as stupid as you think I am. That insomnia excuse was _pathetic_ , by the way.”

Levi blinks. “It really is give an inch, take a mile with you, isn’t it?”

“Shush. I _know_ you brought me in here to distract me. I know I haven’t been… doing so well, lately. I know that.” He swallows and trails his fingertip up over Levi’s pectorals. Levi feels his heart quicken again as a shy yet distinctly _sultry_ expression falls over Eren’s features. The fingertip strokes tenderly over one of his nipples. “I know it’s a distraction, and I know you didn’t originally mean for it to be _this_ sort of distraction, but I like it,” Eren murmurs. “I _really_ like it. So just… distract me? _Please?_ ”

Fuck _, fuck it all._

Now they’re kissing again, and Levi’s pretty sure he initiates it this time too, though perhaps it is both of them at the same time. Eren Jaeger has blown right through his self-control as if it doesn’t even exist. Fuck it! The blanket tangles with their legs as they struggle to wrap themselves around each other. If anything it’s even _more_ frantic and needy than their first kiss. It’s like some cloud between them has evaporated, and all Levi wants to do is climb inside Eren and never let go. His rapidly hardening cock brushes against Eren’s and he breaks off with a moan. Breathless, he asks, “Eren, are you _sure?_ ”

Eren’s nodding before he’s even finished. “Yes. _Yes._ ”

“Alright.”

Eren kisses him again, a deep, slow press of lips against lips. He pulls back and waves his hand vaguely in the direction of Levi’s ass. “Do you have anything… um… you know…”

Levi smirks. _Now_ he gets shy. “Hang on.” He tugs at the blanket in frustration and tosses it to one side – clearly Eren is a terrible influence – then crawls over to his trunk, flings the lid open, roots around for his toiletries. He plucks out an unassuming bottle of pale amber-hued oil. “This should be fine.”

“What is it?”

Levi shrugs. “Some shit from Hange. For my ankle. Doesn’t sting or anything.” He shuffles back over, places the bottle in Eren’s palm, flops back down beside him.

“Oh.”

“Anyway, what makes you think it’ll be _this_ way around?” He points to Eren’s hard cock – it’s pretty fucking gorgeous – then mimics Eren’s earlier vague gesture towards his ass.

Eren chews his lip. He looks like he’s not sure whether to laugh or cringe. “Just a feeling,” he mutters.

“Oh _really_.”

“Ugh, just shut up and tell me what to do. You’re impossible sometimes, you know that?”

Levi just stares. The nerve. Besides, he’s pretty eager to get going now he’s decided _screw the consequences_. He hasn’t done this in _years._

He busies himself positioning a pillow beneath his ass while Eren dips his fingers into the bottle with some degree of curiosity. A thought occurs to him. “Hey Eren, are you going to last at all?”

“Probably not.” He looks slightly fascinated by his own fingers coated in the shiny oil. “But I’ll try.”

“It’s okay. There’s no pressure.”

“No, I know.” Then he places the bottle carefully to one side and touches a fingertip between Levi’s legs. “Like this?”

“Yeah.” Eren’s finger strokes at his hole gently, warm and slippery. Levi blows out a breath. “Gently. Yeah, like that. That’s good.”

As Eren begins to wriggle his fingertip inside, Levi clasps his hands behind his knees and pulls back to make it easier for him. His breaths quicken as Eren starts to slide his finger in and out, growing more confident with each movement. “You really like this, huh?”

Levi sighs deeply, relaxing into the sensations, and closes his eyes. “Yes.”

“Good. I like doing it.”

“You can do two fingers now, Eren. When you’re ready.” His cock is already blissfully hard against his stomach. He lets go of one leg, propping his foot against Eren’s shoulder, and idly reaches down to stroke his own length, pumping gently while Eren works another finger inside him. “That’s great, you’re doing really well.”

“Fucking hell, Levi.” Eren’s voice is shaky.

“Keep going.”

Eren moves his fingers in and out, in and out, stroking his inner walls. The fullness is heavenly. Levi squeezes the tip of his cock – _bliss_ – and rocks his hips gently. “Twist them around a bit, Eren. You need to stretch me.”

Eren moans and rests his forehead against the foot propped on his shoulder, but he complies. “Yes sir,” he whispers.

“Ah! _Shit_. Now three. More oil first though.”

“In a… hurry… or something?” Eren pants.

“You complaining?”

“ _No._ ”

Levi whines a little as Eren withdraws his fingers and grabs the oil. Goodness only knows what the scouts in the surrounding tents must think right now. The storm might have picked up, but so have he and Eren. He tries to care – this is going to be torture in the morning – but he’s so fucked out and blissed out and _aroused_ right now that he can’t really manage it. He just wants Eren inside him. Maybe he’s been thinking about this for a while too without even realising it. There is certainly a sensation of _finally_ coiling through his subconscious right now.

He tucks that notion away to consider later as Eren begins to work three oil-slicked fingers into his hole. “Ahh! Ah _,_ _slowly_ ,” Levi murmurs. The discomfort is manageable, but he wants to make this good for Eren. Wants to _instruct_ him, and _that_ particular urge he most definitely forces down for another time.

When Eren has worked his fingers in down to his knuckles, he pauses to let Levi adjust. He’s peering down at his fingers wedged deep in Levi’s ass and his eyes are wide and thrilled and _horny_. Shit, he’s _good_ at this. Ha! Eren Jaeger and his virgin explorations are taking him apart. Levi almost wants to laugh. “Just keep moving them, Eren,” he says instead.

So he does, and Levi loses himself for a while, coherency deserting him. “Mmm. Nice. _Yess._ ”

Eren is just a grunting mess, fixated on the sight of his fingers pumping in and out of Levi.

“Now—” But apparently Eren wasn’t lying when he said he’d given this some thought because he crooks his fingers _just right_ and Levi jerks violently. “AH! AH FUCK!”

“Like?”

“Yes. _Yes!_ Harder.”

Eren prods and strokes his prostate rhythmically, almost aggressively, and Levi is _lost_. Awash in sensation. He works his hips to draw him deeper, writhing against the furs.

“Ah, shit! Eren, _shit,_ I need your cock.”

Eren moans. He can feel him trembling beneath the sole of his foot. He slips his fingers out, wrenching another whine from Levi, and reaches for the oil again. Uses half the damn bottle to slick up his dick, roughly massaging his balls as he does so. Hange is gonna kill us, Levi thinks.

He inches closer and Levi easily positions his legs around him, one over his shoulder, one resting against his hip. He reaches down to guide Eren to his entrance. “Gah!” Eren gasps. “Don’t _stroke_ , damn it! I’m _dying_ here.”

“Sorry.”

“I just wanna make this _good_ for you, Levi,” he mutters. “You… you have no idea how _amazing_ you look right now.”

“It’s already too damn good.” Levi is all over the place. “Hurry up, brat.”

“Hmm, yes _sir_.”

Eren pushes inside him in one single, _sinfully_ confident thrust. Ah! _So full_. Levi closes his eyes and breathes and breathes. Fucking fuck fuck. It’s so good.

“Ohhh.” Eren stills. “Oh, wow. That feels… ugh just… need a second.”

“S’ok,” Levi mumbles. Right now he just wants to luxuriate. Their bodies _work_ together. He should have _known_ it would be like this. They’ve had years of practice now in reading each other’s subtle and unspoken cues and tells. When Eren fights, Levi fights with him. He’s so used to perching confidently on Eren’s titan form as they charge into yet another horde of giants, so used to unthinkingly protecting the little brat when he’s average and human and reckless. They’ve become a team.

He remembers the day they’d captured the Marleyan war ships. Levi and Eren had taken three of them _by themselves_. Eren stomping gloriously over the decks, plucking up sailors and tossing them overboard to splash their way to enemy shores or risk drowning, and Levi sweeping through the corridors below like a spectre made of whirling blades and gunfire, herding panicked crew members into Eren’s waiting arms. It had almost seemed easy. As if they’d snuck off like rebellious schoolchildren to have their own little adventure. Chaining the bruised and soggy prisoners afterwards to be carted off to the capital for information extraction, he remembers looking over at Eren, who was diligently trying not to hurt these people any further, doing his best not to let his anger get the better of him. Remembers thinking _If nothing else, I must do this right. Do right by Eren._

“I think I can keep going now,” Eren finally informs him.

“Okay. Take your time. You feel great, Eren.”

“You feel great too.”

Eren begins to move, haltingly at first, then with more confidence as he finds his rhythm. His palms grip Levi’s hips. Levi moves with him, adjusting. His cock is already nudging at Levi’s prostate with each thrust. _We fit_ , he realises in blissful abandonment.

Levi gives his dick another few experimental strokes. Worth a try, old man. So he pumps harder, smearing pre-ejaculate over the head. It’s really damn sensitive. He moans his encouragement loudly, and Eren responds. Perspiration trickles down the kid’s temples and his mouth hangs open as he grunts in determination. It’s damn cute.

This makes _sense_ , Levi thinks. So much sense he can feel his heart _pounding._ Levi bites his lip at the sheer pleasure of taking Eren’s cock. Their bodies move in unison, muscles tensing and roiling, skin slicked with sweat. Maybe they can just do this forever, fight and fuck, and fight and fuck, and just be Levi and Eren. And— _shit_ , he thinks in a daze, and hastily relaxes the hand not currently stroking his cock. He was about to sink his fingernails into the skin of Eren’s flexing forearm. Shakes his head slightly. And wouldn’t _that_ be a way to go? He almost laughs again. Instead he throws back his head and groans. Eren is so deep. He feels so full. It’s so _good_.

He’s pretty damn impressed with Eren’s stamina too, if he’s honest, as he feels his balls tighten and the insistent pulse of _more, more, more_ rushes through him. “Eren. Harder. I’m gonna—”

“Please, please.” Eren is incoherent. He sounds almost tearful. “Please Levi.”

“ _Ahh!_ ” Levi gives his cock one last squeeze and shoots over his damn stomach again. It’s not as powerful as the first one, but it’s still pretty fucking _great_. A slow unfurling of pleasure. A release of tension. A surrender. His whole body tingles and trembles with it. He gasps as he rides it out.

Eren practically wails at the sight, still thrusting his hips. He seems desperate.

Levi takes pity on him. “Come on, _come on_ ,” he orders in a rough voice. “Fuck. Come inside me. Come the _fuck_ inside me Eren—”

“Levi!” Eren cries out brokenly, and finally topples into his own orgasm. “Levi, _Levi!_ ” he bleats. He sounds gorgeous.

Levi reaches up a sticky, shaking hand to stroke his hair. Watches him come undone. Wraps his legs tight and pulls him close. Eren’s thrusts slow at last, and he all but collapses on top of him, quaking and shuddering.

Their heavy breathing and the storm outside is all that remains.

 

For long moments they stay like that, sweaty and tangled and catching their breaths. Coming down together. Levi listens to the wind, hopes vaguely that their battleships are okay since he’s inadvertently stolen off with the only person who can protect them. But when Eren shakes his head once, twice, soft hair tickling against Levi’s skin, he peers down.

Levi’s not always great at reading emotional nuance – he’s more of a brute force kind of person – but he senses the change in Eren’s demeanour well enough. His shoulders are quivering, his head is buried against his chest, his cock is going rapidly soft. Levi frowns down at him, concerned. Keeps stroking his hair. “Hey,” he says. “It’s okay.”

A damp sob wracks Eren’s whole body and it has Levi shifting rapidly. _Ah shit,_ he thinks. Eren slips out of him and he hoists him up into his arms. “Shhh,” Levi soothes. He should have known this was coming.

“Levi I _can’t_ ,” Eren sobs.

“Okay. Alright, it’s alright.”

“I don’t want to go, Levi! I don’t want to go.” Eren is shuddering in his arms, rambling into the crook of his neck. “I don’t want to _die_. I want a life. With _you_. I can’t do this anymore! I’m tired, Levi, I’m so tired. I feel like… like I’m disappearing and I don’t know how to stop it. I feel like I’m not even _human_. It’s like I’m turning into… into…”

“Into what, Eren?” Levi prompts.

“Into a _titan_ ,” he wails.

He seems to run out of words then, and just sobs and  _sobs_  against Levi’s neck. Levi rocks him gently, his heartbeat unsteady. He feels tears prickling behind his _own_ eyelids. Oh, Eren.

“I’m here,” he says.

It’s all he can do. Levi wants so desperately to say _you’re not_ and _you’ll be fine_ and _I won’t let that happen_ but he can’t. Giving false promises is stupid, and Levi refuses to do it. Besides, he has no fucking _clue_ how to stop what’s happening to Eren. He can’t even promise that he’ll _be_ there for him. He could die tomorrow, or the next day, or any day really. Both of them could.

 _Please find a way, Hange_ , he thinks desperately. _Please save these kids._

He rocks Eren back and forth, back and forth. Twists Eren’s loose locks around his fingers and _hopes_. It’s not like him to hope, the war and the underground killed most of that long ago, but he can’t help the fiery hope of _this_ at least. That Eren will live a long life. That he will live to be happy. Even if Levi has to give his _own_ life to make it so. He’ll do it, of course he will. Eren would never forgive him, but at least he’ll be _alive_. He’s too young to die. He’s nineteen, damn it. Just a baby.

Eren’s sobs finally settle into damp, snotty sniffles against his neck. Levi envisions another quick trip to the showers in his near future. He won’t be able to put his uniform on tomorrow morning otherwise. It’s probably nearing morning _now_ , actually, but it’s still pitch black beyond the confines of the tent and the silvery glow of torchlight that surrounds them. It’s like they are in their own world. He doesn’t want to leave it, ever.

“Ugh,” Eren says at last, leaning back. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Levi replies. “Anyway, I’m _pretty_ sure your titan couldn’t fuck me like you just did. There’s still time, Eren.” It’s the best he can do.

Eren sniffs.

Then lets out a sharp, slightly delirious laugh. “Good point.”

Levi chuckles as well. _Weird_ mental image. “Armin was crying earlier, too, you know.”

“He was?”

“Yeah. With the commander in the canteen tent.” Levi scratches his head. “You two should talk more.”

“I know,” Eren says in a pensive tone. “I’ll try.”

They both get lost in thought for a bit as they attempt to recover some calm. Levi makes all sorts of ridiculous promises to Eren in his head and gives voice to none of them. After a while, Eren pushes himself up. Shrugs off his misery like an unwanted cloak and says, fiercely, “I’m going to end this. All of this.”

 _There’s my Eren._ “I miss you,” Levi blurts.

“Huh?”

He swallows, caught in those blazing green eyes. “Just… this. You. Not giving up.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t ever give up,” Levi whispers. After a moment, he adds, “That’s an order.”

Eren smiles softly. “Yes sir.”

Levi feels his heart swell beneath his ribcage.

Okay, enough of that. “And grab a fucking handkerchief would you? Find my canteen too. I’m _filthy_ , you little monster _._ ”

“How many handkerchiefs do you even _have?_ ”

“Oi, get on with it.” Levi shoves him off and Eren grumbles, crawling on his knees to do as instructed. He dampens a handkerchief and cleans them off, wiping down their chests and cocks and Levi’s neck and between his legs. Levi is _very_ tempted to insist they both head for the showers, but in the end he’s a little bit too fucked out for it.

They get settled back under the blanket, shifting around the damp patch on the furs, and twine their arms and legs together. Eren lays his head on Levi’s chest. He covers a yawn with his hand.

“Levi?” he says sleepily.

“What?”

“In case it wasn’t obvious I, uh, like you.”

“You don’t say.”

“Do you like me too?”

Levi groans. _Really, Eren?_ “You’re an idiot,” he says, and roughly kisses the crown of Eren’s head. Can’t seem to take his hand out of Eren’s hair or stop his heart from skipping a beat. “Yes. Now get some fucking sleep.”

“Mm. Okay. Night, Levi.”

“Night, brat.”

Eren’s breathing evens out pretty quickly after that. He’s clearly exhausted. Levi has half a notion to stay awake and listen to the storm, to keep an ear out for the sound of pending catastrophe in the harbour, but in the end he feels his eyelids slipping shut too.

 

Eren is peacefully dishevelled when Levi wakes abruptly with his internal clock the next morning. Fast asleep, breathing gently, his hair a mussed halo on the pillow. There’s the faintest flush over his cheekbones. His long lashes fan out beneath his eyes. Levi’s heart _ba-thumps_ in his chest as he leans over to press a soft kiss against his forehead.

Then he gets up.

There’s no real need to dress quietly. The rain is pouring and the wind is howling. In fact he’s not entirely sure how Eren is sleeping through it. But – with mild surprise – Levi remembers he was too. _That’ll be the two orgasms,_ he thinks wryly.

He fastens his cloak around his shoulders and takes a final moment to drink in the sight of Eren snuggled on the furs, warm and soft and gorgeous. Then he unzips the tent and goes to fulfil his promise to their commander.

Levi ensures the most threatening _fuck off_ scowl is fixed on his features before he marches through the waking camp of soldiers. He refuses to meet any glances thrown his way. He doesn’t want to know.

He’s dripping everywhere by the time he reaches the commander’s tent. Hange’s feet are sticking out the entrance, bed socks soggy in the pouring rain. Since he’s soaking wet now too, he gives them a kick. “Oi, get up.”

“Whaaa—?” The feet jerk wildly and there’s a mad scrambling sound from inside the tent. At length the feet are withdrawn and Hange pokes their head out, glasses askew. “Levi? Oh, yuck.” They scrunch their nose up against the rain. “What time is it?”

“Time you were up, you blithering idiot.”

Hange’s eyebrows twist into a delicate frown. He watches carefully for any sign of— _shit_. Suddenly they are directing a fascinated smile in his direction. It’s far, far, _far_ too knowing.

 _Fuck it all_ , Levi thinks.

“So Levi—” they begin.

“No,” he says.

“But _Levi_ —”

“ _No_ , Hange.”

“But what about—”

“Some of us have a war to get to!” he snaps imperiously. “So get up, get dressed, and go take a damn shower or something. I’m busy.” He spins on his heel and storms away, stomping through the puddles. Now he’s _really_ avoiding all those curious gazes. After a few steps, he pauses. Glances back over his shoulder. “And try not to die, four-eyes.”

“Wait, Levi! I need— oof!”

He rolls his eyes and carries on.

 

By the time he collects his gear and blades from the temporary armoury and – screw it – strips down and rushes through a _very_ quick combat shower after all, he finds his tent empty. He grabs his knives and guns and makes his way down to the beach, where a small group clusters around a rowing boat. Eren is down there, back in uniform, peering at him sheepishly from beneath his hood. He looks so like his fifteen year old self just then, only older and _sexier_ , that Levi almost trips over his own feet in the wet sand. He manages _not_ to make a fool of himself but throws Eren _a look_ – should’ve waited for me, idiot – and Eren brightens.

“Captain,” Mikasa says. “Ready when you are.”

He spares her a quick once over. She’s determinedly avoiding his gaze, jaw clenched. Oh, well. It’s a two day trip across the ocean if the information they’ve tortured out of the Marleyan sailors is correct. They’ve got the time to have it out if that’s what she needs.

They’re all here. Jean staring at him in abject horror, Connie and Sasha off to one side seemingly oblivious, Armin smiling shyly and looking distinctly _pleased_ with them both, even though he _should_ be up in the main camp getting himself ready since he won’t be with the squad for this operation. Floch and Hitch who’ve turned out to be pretty good scouts after all. A handful from the wider Survey Corps in dripping green cloaks whom the more obliging – or terrified – of the Marleyan captives have trained up to operate the ship. All young, all determined, every one of them his responsibility. Theirs will be a small crew. It needs to be.

Historia is with them as well, almost like old times, only she’s swathed in a rich fur cloak that looks much warmer than anything the rest of them are wearing and accompanied by two of her royal guards. She’s speaking softly to Eren, holding his hands in her own. “You’ll be _fine_ ,” she’s saying. Levi doesn’t bother to correct her. Someone has to be an optimist. Might as well be their queen.

“Alright,” Levi snaps. “Historia, Armin, off with you. I’m not standing here getting pissed on forever.”

“Yes, sir!” they both say. Even the queen.

So they say their goodbyes with salutes and _good lucks_ , and then they get into the boat. Eren touches the small of Levi’s back before he clambers in. Levi shivers.

By the time they’ve rowed to the ship – the smallest one from their new battalion, chosen deliberately for stealth – and used their gear to launch onto it, the whole of the Special Operations Squad is thoroughly soaked. _Drowned rats_ springs to Levi’s mind. But there’s a grim determination as each of them scuttle off to their pre-arranged stations without a word. He watches the set of Eren’s shoulders as he disappears through a hatch, down towards the ship’s infirmary, the most determined of them all.

Himself, he needs a moment. Getting old, maybe. He stands on the deck and listens as the engines fire up. Stares out to sea. It’s going to be a rough journey. He peers over his shoulder at the camp as it recedes beneath the rains and mists. Thinks he can make out Hange standing on the rise, watching them leave. Lifts his fist to his heart in a salute. A fist is raised back. _Don’t die, four-eyes_.

His eyes linger on his oldest friend for what may be the last time, until Hange vanishes behind the weather. He feels slightly sick.

The ocean is broiling and the skies are falling as their ship slowly chugs out beyond the harbour. The darkest storm clouds linger ahead, heavy and ominous, forks of lightning arcing down to the water far below. It’s fitting, Levi thinks, as he swipes rain-soaked hair from his eyes. They’re heading back into hell; might as _well_ have the fucking weather for it.

He doesn’t know what the future will bring. Maybe last night is all he and Eren will ever have between them. He wants more nights, he can admit that to himself at least, but he doesn’t yet dare examine the softness in his heart that feels suspiciously like hope. Not yet… not yet. It will make him weak, get him killed. He’s never fought well on hopes and dreams. That’s Eren’s forte, not his.

No, Levi fights because he must. Because it’s all he’s ever done. Win one fight, then the next, then the fight after that… and maybe someday the fighting will stop. Maybe someday he’ll stare down at a blood soaked battlefield and still be standing, and he’ll finally be done. Maybe on that day he will allow himself to think of hopes and dreams, but between this day and that – whenever it comes, if it comes – he has a job to do.

And it’s time to get to work.

He unsheathes a blade and goes to find his subordinate.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
